


Complicated

by insertcleveruserhere



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: 18+, Death, F/M, Murder, NSFW, Rushed, Sex, Smut, murder mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25023685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertcleveruserhere/pseuds/insertcleveruserhere
Summary: Raul's used to things being simple. But, now that he's with the Courier and her crew, things are more complicated than ever. He learns that complicated isn't necessarily so bad.
Relationships: Courier/Raul Tejada, Female Courier/Raul Tejada
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Complicated

**Author's Note:**

> This is just really rushed, unedited smut. It's not my favorite thing I've written, but I wanted to share some Raul love.

Raul Tejada was a simple man. When the Courier, Beatrice, invited him to tag along with her ragtag caravan, after she staged her daring rescue at Black Mountain, he thought that they would be doing simple things - shooting at raiders, clearing out different factories, and altogether, just do basic, simple things. 

He learned, really quickly, that the only simple thing about Beatrice’s party was counting bullets. 

He’d never heard of such a ragtag group of people - a scientist, a sniper and widower, a cyborg dog, a naive Brotherhood scribe, and a drunk merchant all following a mailwoman who got shot in the head, trying to find said man who shot her in the head. 

He didn’t really think they’d make it to Freeside, much less into the Strip, but here they were, in good with the Kings and the Wranglers, in charge of the Van Graff operation, now that the siblings were “dearly departed”. She was getting some of her people to work on a counterfeit passport, and now, it was just a waiting game. 

“I’ve got it all figured out.” She says one night at the Atomic Wrangler, sitting with her posse, sans Arcade, who went back to check on the Followers of the Apocalypse, and Cass, who’d opted to drink alone in her room. “I’m going to head into the Tops, and I’m gonna look him right in the eye, and ask him to take me to his room. And when we get into bed, I’m gonna kill him.”

Veronica claps her hands and laughs, taking another shot, even though she’s drunk as Cass is on a good day. Before the burn of the shot has passed, she’s laughing again, “You’re gonna sleep with the guy who shot your face?” She says, loud and obnoxiously drunk. 

She shakes her head, smiling at V, “Nah - I’m just gonna make him think he’s safe enough to let me in.” She puffs on a cigarette, but Raul notes that she isn’t drinking tonight.   
He glances around the Wrangler - it’s become a lot more...hopping, since she brought them Fisto, Beatrix, and Ben, and got rid of that awful comedian. Not like Raul would really know - he liked to stay in his cabin and to himself instead of lounging around Freeside and the Strip. 

“Is that really the best idea?” Boone finally speaks up. He’d been nursing the same glass of bourbon all night. 

She shrugs, “I dunno, but it’s a damn decent one. I want it to fucking hurt, regardless of how he goes down.”

Raul can hear the waver in her voice, the pain behind it. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like, to wake up in that fucking hole, after being shot in the goddamn head.   
Beatrice smiles over to Raul, then up to Beatrix when she walks by, taking the smoothskin’s hand. Beatrix kisses her cheek, then the corner of her mouth, and Raul swallows, feeling like a creepy old man as he tries to look away. 

“Don’t break too many hearts.” Beatrice smiles, and Beatrix just winks, being approached by a paying customer. 

Raul busies himself with a drink, even if alcohol doesn’t really affect him the way it used to. He missed it, the buzzes and the blackouts and even the hangovers.

“Why don’t we dance?” Beatrice says to Raul, and he can’t really believe that she’s looking at him - but she is, and he can’t quite believe it. She nods, and they stand, and Beatrice puts his hands round her waist, and her head on his shoulder, and he can’t believe that she hasn’t had anything to drink. 

It isn’t a slow dancing song - Pistol Packin’ Mama does describe Beatrice pretty well - but it ain’t a song to be dancing like they are, all pressed against each other, slow and sweet, like he would with girls from before the Big Boom. She holds him a little closer than is really strictly necessary, and he doesn’t mind one bit. 

He’s seen this woman wield weapons twice her size, watched her charm her way out of sleazy situations and into sleazier deals, talking down bag guys and running from the few who won’t listen. But right now, she’s soft, and she’s slow, and it’s a mutual, simple little thing. 

Simple. Raul could scoff at himself. Nothing could have prepared him for Beatrice, or her little troupe, or the way she looked at him, and he knows that this dance is way more than simple. It’s a complicated little knot of emotions that Raul isn’t sure he wants to unpack right now. 

“We should go upstairs.” She says, pressing a kiss to his chest. 

His heart skips a beat and he can hardly believe that she’d really suggest something like that. 

“Bea…” He murmurs, shaking his head, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I saw you looking.” She says, ignoring him, “Counting my drinks. I haven’t had a drop, Tejada, and the only thing I want now, is you.” 

He shakes his head again, blinking, one hand on hers, “You can’t mean that.”

She takes him upstairs, and he follows, absolutely in a trance. She holds his hand, like it isn’t an irradiated mess of gnarled skin and old bones. He just watches for a while, making sure that this is really what she thinks she wants. 

“Raul.” She purrs, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what she has in mind for Benny. She kisses him, and his eyes widen, and then shut on their own accord, and he wonders if she’s thought about this before, stayed up thinking of him the way he stays up thinking of her. 

She’s all sin and sex and seduction, and Raul is done for when she holds him to her, undressing him like he’s a goddamn Christmas present, murmuring his name like a prayer. He swears, from the pit of his belly, and finally grows confident enough to hold her there, flush to him, kissing her, admiring her, murmuring praises that she can’t understand. 

She rocks into him, and he can’t tell where he ends and she begins. Nothing about her is simple, and he can tell, from the way she looks at him, that nothing ever will be again. 

He doesn’t want tonight to end.


End file.
